


What Are You Doing New Years Eve?

by HannahPelham



Series: Christmas 2020 [2]
Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: F/M, i needed to get this out of my system, traditional spiros comes to england at the end of the war fic, unashamed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahPelham/pseuds/HannahPelham
Summary: Bournemouth. 31st December 1945. The last person Louisa expects to see is Spiros, standing on her doorstep in the old.
Relationships: Louisa Durrell/Spiros Halikiopoulos
Series: Christmas 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993585
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	What Are You Doing New Years Eve?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit rubbish but I needed to write something to get over my writers block, please enjoy!

A knock on the door startled Louisa Durrell from her chair. The children, anxious to celebrate the turn of the year, were in the local pub with their friends, so Louisa assumed it was one or all of them, a little worse for wear.

She wasn’t expecting to see Spiros standing there, shivering in the English winter.

“Ευτυχισμένο το νέο έτος, Mrs Durrells” He whispered, both breath and command of English taken away by the sight of her stood there in a posh frock, looking as if she belonged there (no matter whether either of them believed that or not).

“Happy New Year, Spiros” Louisa replied quietly, stepping aside to let him in. She smiled weakly as she closed the door. She turned around, half expecting him not to be there.

Before a word was said between them, an invisible force drew them together, and Spiros’ lips crashed down onto Louisa’s. 

“I love you” He murmured between kisses. It was as true on 31st December 1945 in Bournemouth as it had been on the beach in Corfu in 1939. Spiros Halikipoulous loved Louisa Durrell, and from the way she was kissing him back, he guessed she still loved him too. 

“I love you too Spiros,” Louisa replied, “and I’ve missed you terribly”. Louisa kissed Spiros again desperately, almost worried that if she stopped he’d fizzle away and be nothing but a figment of her imagination. 

However reluctant she was, Louisa pulled away and straightened her blouse. She looked at Spiros properly for the first time since he’d arrived. He was thinner, with little grey streaks appearing at his temples, and he had a few more lines on his face, but he was fundamentally unchanged. She had no idea how he’d spent the war, they’d decided on a clean break when she’d left Corfu, and she was almost glad of it now. At least they’d have one thing to talk about. 

Spiros took in Louisa’s appearance. She was wearing one of her best dresses, one he’d seen nearly 10 years ago on Corfu, and Louisa didn’t look any different. Her hair was still perfectly coiffed, and her makeup expertly applied as always. She hadn’t aged a day in Spiros’ eyes. 

Spiros’ suitcase lay abandoned in the hall until much later that evening, when the Durrell children, drunk as Louisa expected, stumbled into it as they returned from the pub. When Louisa poked her head out of the kitchen with the biggest smile on her face, they didn’t have to ask who it belonged to. 

“καλή σπέρα, Spiros” Leslie half-shouted, half-slurred as he tried to climb the stairs. Margo and Gerry helped him up, waving to Spiros as they went. Spiros waved back and gazed lovingly at Louisa, and everything felt right in the world for a while. 

Spiros looked around the sitting room of Louisa’s little house as she dozed on his shoulder. It was getting late, but Louisa had kept refusing to go to bed because she didn’t want such a wonderful day to be over. He looked at the photos on the dresser, and wondered how his own, particularly Corfiot face might fit into the Durrell family collage. He hoped there would be a place for him, and as Louisa snored softly on his shoulder, he was pretty sure there would be. 

When Louisa woke the next morning, she was surprised to find somebody next to her. She opened her eyes, saw it was Spiros, and was no longer surprised. She guessed she’d fallen asleep the night before and he had carried her to bed. Louisa curled into Spiros’ side, feeling more at home than she had since they’d come back to England. That was when she realised, home was wherever Spiros was. Whether he was in Corfu or England or wherever, home would always be where Spiros was. 

Breakfast was a surprisingly calm affair, thanks to the hangovers of the Durrell children. A telegram arrived from Larry, wishing them all a happy new year. As Louisa leaned over and kissed Spiros’ cheek as she handed him his breakfast, nobody made a sound or questioned it. Leslie, Margo, and Gerry knew. Their mother was happy now that she had Spiros back. She looked happier, younger, lighter. The sad, stressed mother they’d known during the war was gone and the mother they’d known on Corfu had returned. 

Louisa couldn’t believe her luck as she and Spiros walked through some local woodlands, wrapped up against the cold. Spiros’ hand was warm in hers through her gloves, and his smile seemed to defrost the iciness of an English january. Everything seemed lighter and warmer thanks to him. Louisa wasn’t particularly religious, but she was sure she would give thanks for Spiros every single day. 

The domesticity of it all, and how quickly it had all come about, was not lost on Louisa. Sat in front of a roaring fire, with Spiros across from her in an armchair, reading a book, Louisa knew she’d be content for the rest of her life if it just consisted of this. Nothing dramatic, nothing fancy, just her and Spiros and contented quietness. There was just one thing missing. 

“Spiros?” she asked, somewhat nervously, breaking the silence. 

“Louisa” he replied, placing a bookmark in his book. 

“I don’t know if you are able to do this, but if you are, will you marry me?” Louisa asked. She smiled nervously at him, waiting for him to reply. 

“I am, and I will” he whispered as he rushed over to her, pulling her off the sofa to kiss her with all he was worth. 

The wedding of Louisa Durrell and Spiros Halikiopoulos a week later at Bournemouth Registry Office was a reasonably quiet affair, with the promise of a big celebration when they returned to Corfu. It mattered to Louisa that they got married sooner rather than later, she’d just spent 6 years without Spiros, she didn’t want him to go again. 

There wasn’t a reception as such, but when they got home, a bottle of gin was found and tea was made and the new family, actually properly a family for the first time, sat around and talked of Corfu. Louisa leaned into her husband, her head resting on his shoulder, as she watched him and her children reminisce about the old times, and she knew everything would be ok. 


End file.
